Adept Series 10 - The Stain
by shadowglove
Summary: Chloe and the team are trying to solve a very strange case indeed, so it would be great if Homeland Security weren't dogging them all of a sudden. It also doesn't help that, given recent developments, the unravelling is starting to show, especially in her relationship with Peter. The team's about to gain a new member... and lose another.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Do not own**

 **Chapter 1/4**

—

Who was Peter's fifth candidate?

Chloe had met the fourth already, it had been her first Secret Compatibility Test in which she'd actually known what was going on and had gone into it with the mind-frame of honestly giving the person a chance. This time the "connection" was Jared, as Rick Sanchez was a Secret Service agent and Head of the president's security detail. He seemed nice enough, but there definitely hadn't been any interest from her. While she hadn't gotten physically ill like she had with Brice, all instincts in her body had been at "No Go".

That only let Peter with one candidate left, and she couldn't help but wonder who this guy was and when they'd spring him on her in their subtle attempt to put her through a Compatibility Test.

 _Drip drip drip_.

Staring up at the blood as it dripped down below, she couldn't help but remind herself that now was not the time to think about these things right now. Not with a mutilated body to investigate. Not when it was the second of its kind which had happened in the last two days.

"I shouldn't have had that second taco," Jared whispered to no one in particular as he took pictures of the crime scene. He shook his head and angled the lens. "How? I mean, come on! Local law enforcement are acting like we're stepping on their dicks by taking over the crime scene, but suicide, really? What sort of idiotic—."

"What does that remind you of?" Chloe asked curiously as she stared at the body.

"A horror movie I saw once when I was like, eleven," Jared answered immediately. "I was so scared afterwards that I peed my bed, and when grandpa confronted me about it I told him Seeley did it."

Chloe barked in laughter. " _No_."

"Yes! I then told him that Seeley had a problem with peeing the bed, but that I hadn't wanted to, you know, make him feel bad by telling on him," Jared continued with no shame or repentance whatsoever.

"Your poor brother."

"Poor brother? Gramps totally spoiled him for like a day! And Gramps wasn't one to spoil!" It was obvious that Jared resented not being spoiled that day. "Seeley hadn't even peed the bed! I had! Where's the justice in this world?"

Chloe laughed and shook her head, before suddenly a wave of dizziness descended over her. She brought a hand to her head and leaned against a nearby column as she waited for it to pass. Usually it was over in a second but the episodes were growing longer and longer.

Ever since the night she'd collapsed with a nosebleed on Peter's balcony things had been wonky. She and Peter were fine, they strengthened the bond regularly, and yet it didn't seem to last as long as it used to - not at all. It also didn't seem to be charging her as much either.

Was this because Peter was actively rejecting their situation by trying to trick her into getting his replacement? Was he that desperate to leave and be done with all of this madness that it was affecting the bond? Was it sensing his distress and reacting?

Something in her chest hurt, it was as if something inside of her was ever so slowly tearing apart.

Pushing away the pain, fighting the dizziness, Chloe shook her head, opened her eyes, and forced herself to concentrate on the murder. If she gave her mind something to obsess over until solved she'd get a bit of a break from its over-analysis of everything she must've done wrong to make Peter feel so trapped he'd go behind her back to find someone to pawn her off onto.

Since Anne was off doing some research for Chloe, in the meantime Peter and Lincoln Lee (the newest addition to what Chloe had officially named - with the President's blessing - the Fringe Division) were canvassing the area and talking to witnesses. That meant that it was just Chloe and Jared here with the body in the cordoned off area.

"What does it look like to you?" Jared looked up from the pictures on his digital camera.

"Le Mat," Chloe responded immediately.

Jared turned to look at her with a look of utter confusion. "The _revolver_?"

"No." She shook her head. "Le Mat - also known as The Madman or The Fool." Sure the proportions were a bit off, and some things were clearly improvised, but the man impaled on the wall looked very much like The Fool.

Jared looked up at the impaled body and then let his camera hang against his chest via the strap as he grabbed his phone and began searching. Within seconds he found something, checked the body once more, and then turned the screen towards her. "What about this homeless guy looks like this rich, prissy dude?"

"Wrong deck. You're searching Rider-Waite, which, while the most commonly used deck, is incorrect when it comes to this interpretation." She motioned to the man dead before them. "I, on the other hand, am referring to the eldest surviving tarot cards: the Visconti-Sforza tarot deck."

Jared put his finger to his phone screen and then lifted it right up. "How do you spell that?"

Someone cleared their throat off to the side.

Chloe and Jared turned around, and her eyes widened when she saw the newcomers.

"Agents Wanek and Singer," the shorter one declared as he held out his badge. "Homeland Security."

"We're here to help the investigation in any way possible," Agent Singer assured her as he put away his badge.

Chloe raised an eyebrow as she stared between one and the other, unable to believe what was right in front of her. "Agents… Wanek and Singer."

"Yes ma'am," Agent Wanek declared. "Is there a problem?"

She gazed between the two of them, not exactly sure how she was supposed handle this situation. "No, of course not, Agent Wanek." She motioned to the body and then turned to him. "Why is Homeland Security interested in the death of a homeless man?" She folded her arms over her chest and leaned forwards. "Has the NSA been a bit… leakey… again? Did the vic stumble across some important, national information while dumpster diving?" Her eyes widened in mock fear. "Should we show you where the closest dumpsters are? You might want to jump in yourselves just to be sure."

Jared's eyes widened on her in horror.

Agents Wanek and Singer shared a look before Agent Wanek cleared his throat and straightened his jacket. "Ma'am, I don't like your attitude. Homeland Security—."

"Has no jurisdiction over this investigation." She raised an eyebrow. "So, thanks for the offer to assist, but this is not the case for you."

"Ma'am—," Agent Singer began.

"It's _Agent_ ," she interrupted immediately. "Special Agent."

"I notice you haven't shown a badge or named a department, or even given a last name, _Special Agent_ ," Agent Wanek announced with a very fake smile.

She leaned in close and gave him one just as fake. "You know, that's the sort of sharp observational skills that gets you a job at Homeland Security." She then stepped back and motioned with her hand for them to leave. "Off with you. You're interrupting me and my thought process."

Turning her back on them, Chloe cracked her neck and returned to staring at the crime scene. She could hear the faint footsteps of the men leaving, as well as their hissed words to each other, they were obviously pissed. This was definitely not the last she'd see of them.

"And I thought the authorities _here_ got touchy when we stole the scene!" Jared's voice was squeaked in shock. "What _was_ that?"

"Relax," she advised as she tried to get back into the mental space she needed to be in to begin her initial computing. "We're not going to get in trouble."

"You can't know that," he pointed out. "Being a psychic is not one of your Adept abilities." He paused, looking hopeful. "Is it?"

She ignored him and concentrated on the crime scene.

—

What was going on with Chloe?

Peter couldn't exactly pinpoint when he'd first noticed that there was something slightly off about her, but ever since he'd first made note of it, it'd only gotten progressively worse. Whatever it was she was keeping it to herself for right now, and she was an adult with every right to do so, so Peter wouldn't pry unless he sensed things reach a point where things were dangerous. He figured she'd come clean to him eventually, she usually did anyway. All he had to do was wait until the time was right.

In the meantime he continued helping with all he could, keeping up his duties as Bonder, and trying to prepare everything in regards to his fifth and last candidate. Not only had Chloe not liked the other four candidates hand-selected by him and the others in his Bonder Committee, but in some instances she'd reacted negatively… as in… _physically_. And that really made him wonder about this whole Bonder thing. It wasn't just mental or emotional, it obviously involved chemistry, pheromones, _something_.

Chloe's Bonder had to fit multiple different categories, and he realized just how hard it would be to find someone like that. The fact that he himself had managed to fit them, mostly, was a huge compliment now that he thought about that. It meant that, other than the history of mental illness in his family, he was a perfect match for her, mentally, emotionally, and physically.

 _Just how am I ever going to be able to find someone as compatible for her as I am?_

Clearing his throat, uncomfortable all of a sudden, Peter looked up when Anne stormed into the meeting room. She'd called the meeting but had been late, and he was glad more than ever that she'd finally arrived.

"Behold our second vic!" Anne stood in front of the screen, tablet in hand as she cast the picture of the homeless man now in the Medical Examiner's room. Vance was looking into getting them their own room given the fact that some of their cadavers were hexed and needed certain extra precautions, but for now Ducky was helping handle them, with Chloe's supervision.

A picture of the homeless man, looking very much like someone who'd walked off of a GQ magazine cover, graced the screen, as well as his stats.

"His name was Ansel Ramirez, he was 45 years old, and a second generation American who was very vocal on how his grandparents' struggles as immigrants inspired him to achieve greatness. He was also one of the richest men in Washington." Anne made a face. "There's no news on his company folding under, or him having any sort of financial issues, so his extreme beggar/homeless guy makeover is a big question mark."

"Any wife or kids?" Jared wanted to know curiously.

"None." Anne flicked an article onto the screen which named Ramirez as one of Washington's most eligible bachelors.

The door opened and Lincoln Lee, Jared's friend and newest Fringe Division recruit, appeared with a large container filled with coffees in hand.

"My savior!" Jared bowed down and stole his and Anne's cups, placing hers on the table next to her.

"What'd I miss?" Lincoln asked as he held the container out to Peter.

"The second vic is a single rich guy," Peter summarized as he retrieved his cup and nodded his thanks.

"Noted." Lincoln moved around Peter to stand between him and Chloe, holding the container out towards her. "Almond mocha with extra whip."

She smiled up at him and took both his and her cups out so that he could dump the container. "Good job, Agent Lee."

"Yes, well, if getting coffee is what it takes to help keep the world spinning," he chuckled sheepishly as he pushed his glasses higher up his nose. "Thanks." He took his cup from her and turned his attention to Anne.

 _Kiss ass_. Peter rolled his eyes and took a sip of his drink.

"I've done research into him, and I can't find anything fishy at all." Anne sounded very disappointed as she flicked more and more press shots and candids and articles in reference to Mr Ramirez onto the screen. "From what I could find he was actually pretty decent. Not only did he go to church regularly and contribute an annual amount to help with outreach programs the church sponsored, but he also started a charity which helped kids from lower income brackets to get a good education and have free lunches. He bought his parents a great house in an even greater neighborhood once he made his first million, and he's used much of his own personal wealth to make his old neighborhood better. There's after school projects and projects aimed at those recently released from prison - all in an effort to keep people busy and out of gangs."

"Sounds like he was a veritable saint," Lincoln muttered in slight awe. "Why would someone do to him what was done? Who could have something against him?"

"Don't trust outwards appearances," Peter informed him. "Some of the people who do the nicest things do so to try and keep their conscience at bay."

"I thought the same thing," Anne agreed. "But I haven't been able to find any dirt so far no matter how hard I try. Nothing at all."

"Doesn't mean it isn't there." Peter took a long sip of his coffee. "Someone did _that_ ," he motioned to the pictured of Mr Ramirez's impaled corpse, "to him. And I don't know about you, but that looks really personal to me."

"It is." Chloe waved at the hot steam that wafted upwards from her cup of coffee. "It was also a very clear message though. This wasn't just about Mr Ramirez."

"What do you mean?" Anne asked as she hugged the tablet to her chest.

"When Ducky and I performed the post-mortem on both the first vic and Mr Ramirez we found some interesting things regarding their deaths. Take Mr Ramirez for example, we concluded that cause of death was not the impaling, he was actually dead by the time he was impaled. None of the other embellishes were done until after the death either: the tattered clothes, the stocking without shoes, the feathers in the hair. None of it."

"You said that it's reminiscent of some old type of tarot, right?" Jared remembered.

Chloe nodded. "The Fool from the Visconti-Sforza tarot deck."

Anne typed quickly into the tablet and brought up an image of the card itself.

Peter narrowed his eyes as the image was enlarged. "That rod he's holding looks a lot like the one he's been impaled on."

"Exactly." Chloe nodded.

"Does he have balls on his chin?" Jared wanted to know as he squinted and leaned closer towards the screen to eye the tarot card better. "It looks like he has balls on his chin."

Peter tilted his head as he examined the card better. "I think it's a double chin."

"No, those are balls." Jared sounded sure of it.

Lincoln made a face and waved his hand to show he believed there was a fifty/fifty chance it was balls.

Deciding that they'd gone off of topic, Peter turned to Chloe. "What's the esoteric meaning of The Fool card?"

"It's really open to interpretation," Chloe mumbled as she nibbled on her thumbnail.

The pinched expression on her face, coupled with the slightly vacant look in her eyes, betrayed that she was seeing things no one else could - information stored away within her which popped out when questions needed answering. Every time he saw that expression on her face, Peter couldn't help but wonder exactly how she saw the world. She was so different, so changed by her experiences, as well as by the knowledge stored deep within her that threatened her very existence with its overwhelming presence.

"Have you been able to identify the first victim yet?" Peter asked Anne.

She shook her head and pulled up a separate screen. The skeleton that'd been discovered was pure bone, no tissue or muscle in sight. There was a white cloth which had been wrapped around the head, and its fingers had been curled around a crude, long bow.

Chloe waved and flicked her hands in the air in front of her as she mumbled to herself. To anyone else she'd look like a crazy person talking to themselves and seeing delusions. But unlike the insane people Peter had met in his life, Chloe really _was_ seeing things that no one else could.

In fact, by the way she reached out, thumb and find together only to push them apart - it seemed like she was zooming in on some image.

"How did I not see it before?" Chloe's eyes widened, looking far too large for her face. She'd been too pale lately, and skinny. "Death."

"Yeah, uhh, the vic's definitely dead," Jared threw out there with a little laugh.

Peter, on the other hand, understood immediately. "Anne, bring up the Visconti-Sforza Death card."

Her eyes widened as she hurriedly did so and cast it on the screen. There, above them, was a depiction of the victim.

Chloe was continuing to push away things in the air in front of her, and pull others closer, arranging everything in that beautiful and terrifying mind of hers. "Given the symmetry, yet primordially contradictory nature of the Ramirez murder, one must assume that whoever the unfortunate whose bones were picked clean is somehow the antithesis of his mythological, and one might chance - alchemical - alter. Which really begs the questions as to how that can translate into living representation of a dualistic yet antagonistic nature."

Seeing Jared and Anne's confused looks, Peter opened his mouth to translate.

Lincoln turned to Chloe. "That's interesting." He removed his glasses when they fogged up with steam. "I've been trying to catch up on the million things I don't know, but I've never heard of that sort of ritual. Is it a special sort of magic only used by certain magical practitioners, or during some lunar cycle, or maybe during some pagan holy day?"

Peter rolled his eyes and looked away. If there was anything he couldn't stand, it was a teacher's pet or a know-it-all, and Lincoln was trying to be both.

"Not exactly, but it seems to be both symbiotic and counter reflective," Chloe responded without missing beat. "I've never heard it referred to as Opposites magic," she admitted. "But given the inverted nature of the symbiosis, a reversal of circumstances could be considered a—."

Her phone rang, cutting into her monologue and completely distracting her as she hurried to answer it.

Jared took this opportunity to throw a crumpled napkin at Lincoln. "No more brown-nosing!"

Peter hid his grin behind his cup.

"It's called 'understanding your job'," Lincoln muttered.

"It's called 'kissing up'," Jared countered.

Peter had never liked Jared as much as he did right now.

"You're just peed that he's the new guy, but he's still kicking your butt in every part of the job," Anne declared as she raised her cup to Lincoln, who returned the gesture.

"No he's not!" Jared gasped, hand to his heart.

"Don't let them near the body. I'm coming." Chloe came back, expression closed off. "A third body's been found. Peter, I want you to take Jared and Anne to secure the area. The info is being sent to your phones." She turned to Lincoln. "You're with me."

"Okay." Lincoln nodded.

Peter's amusement disappeared. "You're not coming?"

"No, Lincoln and I will meet you when you get back. Jared, categorize the crime scene. Anne, you're in charge of interviewing any witnesses. Peter - you're free-range and in charge."

Peter frowned. "What are you going to do?"

She was already out of the door, Lincoln trailing behind.

Anne hurried to grab her crime-scene kit.

Jared came to stand next to Peter as he stared at the door. "Did you just get kicked onto Team B?"

"There's no such thing as Team B," Peter announced as he turned to frown at Jared.

Jared slapped his shoulder. "Sure, man, whatever makes you feel better." He walked away.

Never before had Peter disliked Jared as much as he did right now.

—

 **TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Do not own**

—

"So, are you pushing him away knowingly or unknowingly?" Lincoln wanted to know as he caught up with her.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Chloe muttered as she hit the button to call the elevator.

He took a moment to eye her as he sipped his coffee. "So it's on purpose."

She ignored him and stepped into the elevator when the doors slid open.

"I don't get why." He joined her inside. "Peter's your Bonder, right? I still don't really understand the whole situation, but he's important, you need him." He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "So why are you pushing him away?"

She silently pushed the button that would take them to the Medical Examiner's Office.

"And why are we going to see Ducky?" He asked, finally taking a hint. "I thought you'd already gone over the newest body and was sending it to the freezer."

"I need you to be as stuck up and difficult as can be with some unwanted visitors. I'll explain in detail later."

He raised an eyebrow. "This will be interesting."

They fell into silence as the numbers descended.

Chloe suddenly groaned and pulled the emergency brakes, leaving them suspended in the air, everything shut off.

Lincoln turned towards her in shocked confusion. "What are you doing? We'll get in trouble!"

"You'd be surprised how many people get away with doing this." She turned to face him. There was clear hesitation, her expression conflicted, before she took in a deep breath, and forced out rapidly: "Peter is trying to find a replacement Bonder to take his place. And he's doing it behind my back." She gulped, her gaze lowered to her hands. "I'm just making things easier for him."

Lincoln stared at her as shock took over. "You're helping him leave? But you _need_ him!"

"I won't force him to stay with me!" Chloe glanced up at him, fire and determination in her eyes. "It was always supposed to be only temporary. It's my fault for not looking harder, sooner."

Lincoln usually minded his own business, but for some reason he found himself once more uncharacteristically meddlesome. "So the fact that you love him doesn't matter?"

She was visibly stricken as her gaze rose to meet his. "No, it doesn't."

Eyebrows meeting in his frown, Lincoln let out a heavy sound as his lips parted. "It should."

"Well, it doesn't," she replied numbly. "My romantic inclinations have nothing to do with this."

Shaking his head, Lincoln bit back the words on the tip of his tongue.

"All that matters is that I find a replacement for Peter, and soon." She swallowed. "He received this phone call yesterday morning. He thought I was sleeping so he got up and talked softly in the bathroom, but I could still hear his side of the conversation." She hesitated a moment, clearly remembering the event. "It was one of his old contacts who had a business proposition for him. I could hear he was intrigued by whatever it was, but he had to turn it down because he was 'tied down at the moment'." She leaned hard against the wall. "I can't expect him to keep his life on hold to help me survive mine."

A couple of seconds passed in silence as Lincoln digested what she'd just let slip. _Survive?_ Was a Bonder that important? Would she really _die_ without one? He'd known that Peter was incredibly vital to this whole Adept thing, but he hadn't realized the magnitude of Peter's worth. Lincoln's own ignorance frustrated him to no small degree. There was just so much he needed to catch up on!

"Can you, uh, recommend study material regarding the whole Adept thing?" He then realized she might see this as an invasion of her privacy, so he quickly explained himself. "I can't be much help if everyone is constantly having to stop what they're doing to catch me up."

Chloe studied him silently before she asked: "You really want to read about this? It's tedious and the info I've compiled is abundant and confusing. A lot of it is very analytical. You'd be bored."

His eyes widened in excitement. She had info? Great! He couldn't wait to get his hands on it! No matter how hard he'd tried he'd been unable to find credible information anyway! "I don't really go out much, it will give me something to do in the evenings."

A strange expression crossed Chloe's face before a small, amused smile curled the corners of her lips. In seconds her phone was in her hand, and after a moment or two his phone buzzed with an incoming email.

Putting her phone away, Chloe smiled more openly at him. "Don't say I didn't warn you." She took a long sip of her coffee, a teasing glint in her emerald greens.

Lincoln's lips were curling in a smile, but in seconds the corners straightened and turned downwards. He gulped down the last gulps of his coffee, put down the cup, and in seconds had reached into his jacket and pulled out a travel-sized packet of kleenex. He always kept some on hand, it'd been a habit he'd come into while helping take care of his mother, and then helping his father.

Chloe stared at the pack in confusion before the thick trail of blood draining from her right nostril finally made its way to her lips. In seconds she'd snatched a tissue away and brought it to her nose to try and staunch the bleeding.

"Having frequent nosebleeds can't be healthy," Lincoln muttered. "I know they can be brought on by stress, but you've had three this week alone, and—."

Her eyes widened in utter horror. "You noticed that?"

His eyes narrowed as his frown deepened. "Wait. Are you trying to _hide_ them?"

"Yes," she said immediately. "So please don't tell anyone."

A suspicion lodged itself in his chest. "Not even Peter?"

Her green gaze burned into his. "Especially not Peter. He's suspicious enough as is."

He exhaled in sudden understanding. "This is Bonder-related, isn't it? Something's wrong."

"It doesn't matter." She used two more tissues to wipe her face, which she tilted up towards him when she was done. "How do I look?"

Given the emergency lights didn't provide the best lighting, Lincoln used his phone to examine her face, and then used another kleenex to wipe a smudge she'd missed. "Good as new."

"Thanks." There was a slight pause. "You're so nice." She looked amused. "I don't know if you can be as much of an asshole as I need you to be."

That intrigue from before returned tenfold. "Who exactly am I supposed to piss off?"

She made a face. "Two Homeland Security agents I can't get rid of."

Right! Jared had recounted Chloe'd clash with the two agents! He'd pulled Lincoln aside and had told him all about it with a tone which was part scandalized, part impressed, but mostly giddy. His friend had seemed very much like a kid who'd witnessed the class' goodie two shoes do something bad, and was high on his excitement at this strange turn of events.

"How wise is it to piss off Homeland Security?"

A strange expression took residence on her face. "I promise this won't come back to bite you."

If this had been a normal Federal case there was no way he'd have chanced this for a superior, but during the little time he'd been a part of the Fringe Division he'd come to realize things Chloe did were highly eccentric yet effective.

No matter how odd, she usually had a very good reason for everything she did. She was just, unfortunately, usually unable to properly explain the method to her madness.

That meant that they had to do a lot of things on blind faith, but she hadn't let them down yet.

It was this and this alone why Lincoln turned off the emergency brake. As the elevator began to descend once more, he sent Chloe a furtive look. He fought his curiosity as he yanked off his glasses, leaving his world slightly hazy as he ran his fingers through his hair so that it was now brushed back.

Intrigue was plain as could be on Chloe's face, it was easily detectable, even in this hazy world.

"I'm getting into character," he informed her with a raised eyebrow.

A large smile spread across her face. "I see."

He cracked his neck and loosened his posture as he quickly bent and grabbed his empty coffee cup, straightening up and assuming an incredibly arrogant pose his old boss used to assume whenever he was being more of an asshole than usual.

As soon as the doors slid open, Lincoln sauntered out, making an effort not to leave Chloe completely behind, which was something he always had to make sure given his strides were longer than hers. He could feel her intrigue as she walked besides him, she really wasn't sure he could pull this off, and while a part of him knew it was because she thought him so nice (which was a good thing) another part was somewhat insulted.

Pushing the doors open, Lincoln sauntered into the room to find the two Homeland Security Agents in a discussion with Ducky, who was very visibly being stubborn and giving them the run-around, which was making the agents highly frustrated.

"Since when does Homeland Security make a house call in regards to a death like this one?" Lincoln wanted to know, a sneer in his voice. "They also usually take a hint."

Ducky looked up in shock at Lincoln's change of attitude.

So did Chloe, who was staring up at Lincoln in wide-eyed shock.

He smirked as he moved towards the two agents, who'd turned towards him. "A little out of your jurisdiction, aren't you, agents?"

"Singer and Wanek," the taller one announced as they showed their badges. He, like his fellow agent, was clearly trying not to let his annoyance win. "Homeland Security has jurisdiction over every matter that might be a threat to National Security." He raised an eyebrow. "It's kind of in the name."

While this was true, Lincoln sneered as he flung his empty cup into a nearby garbage while not ever taking his gaze off of the taller agent, Singer. "Is that so?" He raised an eyebrow. "What's your clearance level?"

The men shared a look before Agent Wanek answered. "That is confidential information."

Lincoln's smile went sharp immediately. There was something fishy going on here. "Yes well, we'll see how highly vetted you are when you're being dragged away to be incarcerated."

The shock on the agents' faces was amazing.

Agent Wanek moved forwards, intimidation in his every move. "I don't know who you think you are, _Agent_. But we're Homeland Security. We trump NCIS."

Agent Singer had his phone out and was dialing a number. "I think you should speak to our supervisor. That will clear everything up." He waited as his phone rang, and then spoke. "With Agent Burlington please. We have some NCIS agents who are refusing to allow us access to the body."

Lincoln shot Chloe a sideways glance. This could get very serious. Was she really planning on continuing this?

Chloe didn't seem to notice what the others were doing, she looked like she was trying her best not to laugh. She cleared her throat, cracked her neck, and took the phone.

"Our superior is going to make things clear," Agent Singer announced with utter confidence. "So let's just make this easy on everyone and start the process of looking at the body."

He and Agent Wanek turned to go towards where the bodies were kept.

"Take one more step, and the only bodies you're going to have to worry about, are your own," Lincoln promised with steel which belied the smile on his face.

Wanek and Singer shared yet another shocked look.

"Listen here, buddy—," Wanek began, but he was quickly cut in by the sound of laughter.

"Oh, you're too precious," Chloe announced into the phone as she raised an eyebrow at Lincoln, as if saying: can you believe this? She glanced over at the two Homeland Security Agents and looked highly unimpressed as she listened to whatever he was saying. "Agent Burlington, I'm going to be very clear with you. If you do not call your agents back this instance I will be forced to remand them into federal custody Under the Fictus Eunuchum Law of 1623. I'm sure you don't want that." She listened to whatever Agent Burlington was saying, before she smiled and handed the phone over to Agent Singer once more.

The man shared a look with his fellow agent as he listened to what was being said in the phone. A strange looks crossed his face. "But—." Whatever Agent Burlington said cut into him, and he let out a frustrated sigh. "I understand." He ended the call and eyed Wanek. "Let's go."

Agent's Wanek's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

Agent Singer turned to them, his smile just as sharp as Lincoln's had been as he walked away, Wanek right behind them. They went to the elevator, and while they were obviously leaving in defeat there was something in Agent Singer's expression that Lincoln did not like.

Ducky was the first to break the silence as he raised an eyebrow. "Well, that was incredibly dramatic." He eyed Chloe. "What exactly happened here? Why did you block Homeland Security?"

"Believe me, what I just did was for their best." Chloe continued to eye the elevator before she turned to Lincoln. "You were great!"

He smiled sheepishly as he shucked his hands into his pockets. "I don't know about _great_."

"No, you were definitely great," she informed him.

"You were highly convincing in your role, Mr Lee," Ducky announced with a chuckle.

Lincoln grinned brightly, knowing he shouldn't feel this proud of himself for having been an asshole, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop his grin from growing.

—

Alt!Chloe, or Anne as she was going by in this universe, didn't last long in her resolve to let Peter and Chloe handle their business without her interference. She'd tried to stay out of it, but being a nosy chick who meddled in things that were not her business was coded in her DNA. There was no way that she could stop it. That was why she took advantage of Jared's distraction to sidle up next to Peter as they surveyed the next body.

"So, you want to talk about it or do you plan on brooding the whole evening?"

"Excuse me?" Peter glanced up at her, eyebrow raised.

"Oh come on, Jared's right, you're usually always with Chloe on her missions. This has got to be the first time she sidelines you. You had no reason to be on Team B and yet here you are." She anchored her hands on her hips. "So what is going on between you two?"

"Nothing," Peter sighed before he turned to fully face her. "Why? Do _you_ think something's going on? And if you do, what do you think is going on?"

Oh yeah, he was definitely much more bothered by this than he'd wanted to let on in front of Jared. "Honestly?"

"Yeah." He nodded.

She made a face. "I think she's on to you."

For a moment he didn't seem to get what she was implying, and then his eyes widened as he paled. "You think she realizes I'm trying to find a replacement?"

"She's the smartest person in this universe, and you haven't exactly been subtle with your candidates," Anne assured him, an evil little part of her enjoying his flinch. "She was bound to figure it out eventually."

Peter took in a deep breath. "Why hasn't she confronted me about it then?"

It was as she tried to find the right way to explain the psyche of her alternate reality counterpart that Anne realized just how weird her life really was. "Peter, Chloe and I might be different in many ways, but we're really similar in some. Like, take for instance our mom." She hated talking about this but she needed to, for Chloe, and maybe even for herself. "She left us when we were kids, didn't just leave either. It was—it was messy. We've talked about it, it happened the same to the both of us." She licked her lips and stared him straight in the eyes. "Peter, we were abandoned as kids. by the person we loved the most. When that happens you don't let yourself be vulnerable enough to be hurt like that again."

Pain and understanding mixed in his face, as well as shame. He ran his hand down his face. "She's putting distance between us in preparation of my leaving. She's trying to protect herself."

"Exactly." Anne made a face. "And can you really blame her? I know you guys always said this would be temporary, but you'd have to be blind to not see the fact that you two care about each other. It's going to hurt Chloe when you leave, and it's going to hurt you too." When Peter didn't immediately deny this, Anne realized just how open he was to her right now, and she felt honored. "I think she's doing this to protect you and your feelings just as much as she is to protect hers."

Silence fell between them before Peter finally spoke. "I can't be her permanent Bonder, Anne. I have very close family who—who disqualify me from being a candidate." He smiled an ugly smile as he ran his fingers through his hair. "To be honest I'm shocked that I was even considered as a candidate for temporary Bonder given everything."

She wanted to point out just how perfect he was for the role, but she had a feeling nothing she could say would make him feel better. Maybe all he really needed from her was to listen.

"And it's better for her if she finally gets a permanent Bonder." Peter let out a deep sigh. "She's not been doing well."

The dyed brunette narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

He ran his finger over the design around his finger. "I think her merely having a temporary bond is starting to affect her. We—her good times don't last as long, and she's been getting sick."

"Sick how?" And how had Anne missed that? They lived together - were basically the same person!

"She's getting nosebleeds all the time now, and the other day she coughed up blood." Peter let out a deep, unhappy breath. "Haven't you noticed how pale she's getting? Or how, sometimes, she grips a surface of any kind tightly because she's shaking like crazy and trying to keep it from being too noticeable?"

No, she hadn't noticed any of that.

"She _needs_ her permanent Bonder, Anne," Peter said softly. "I can't be him. I can just do my best to make sure that whoever he is, he'll take care of her like she deserves to be." He let out a deep, depressed sigh as he glanced away. "Although, all my candidates so far have failed horribly."

"Don't lose faith," Anne reassured as she rested her hand on his shoulder. "You've still got one left." She tried for a smile. "For all you know Chloe might adore him."

"Yeah," Peter agreed. "She might."

Anne stared up at his unhappy face and squeezed his arm. Peter was really introspective, and she hadn't realized a lot about him until this moment. Sure, he was arrogant and snarky and sometimes annoyed her, but he really cared about Chloe, even if he'd never actually say the words out loud.

 _I wish you could've been her permanent Bonder_ , she thought as she kept looking at him. _Who could possibly take your place?_

—

 **TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Do not own**

—

"You're blowing things out of proportion," Abby Sciuto announced as she stared at her monitor. The computer forensic specialist did not look at all concerned as she should be.

"No, I'm not," Jared informed her from where he sat on the edge of her desk and peered down at the pictures on his digital camera. "I am just the right amount of giddy, impressed, and terrified. They were Homeland Security for crying out loud, Abs!"

"If she did that, it was for a reason," Abby informed him.

"I _know_ that," Jared informed her right back. "But I just can't figure out what that reason could be! I mean, don't we basically have Carte Blanche? What the hell is Homeland Security doing sniffing around here? You know? And they were seriously persistent!"

Abby seemed to be mulling something over before she swiveled in her seat to face him. "Before you - or anyone - joined the team, there was some issue with the children of the Heads of the country being kidnapped and replaced, as well as other incidents with shape shifters. We've known there's something brewing, something important, but we haven't been able to figure out what or how all the instances link up." She tilted her head. "Maybe these Homeland Security people have something to do with it."

Jared frowned. There was a lot that he didn't know, and he didn't think he'd ever fully know everything to do with this job, the supernatural, or even his boss. And talking about his boss: "Chloe kicked Peter onto Team B today."

Abby's eyes widened. "Oh my god. She's realized he's trying to find a replacement!" She brought her hands to her face. "She must be so hurt!"

"You don't know that she—," Jared paused as he realized she might very well have realized. That would explain some things. "I think she's using Linc as a shield, a buffer between them." He made a face. "He'd better not get on Peter's bad side. Peter acts all uncaring and crap, but you should've seen him with _me_ when he thought I was a potential replacement." He shivered at the mere memory. "I thought he just couldn't stand me, but the second he realized I was merely applying for a job…"

Abby grinned softly to herself before she slowly frowned. "I wish he could be her permanent Bonder."

"I bet Chloe does, too." Jared glanced down at his camera. "I don't think there's anyone out there who could replace him. I mean, how would anyone else be able to understand what she says and does like he does? He's like the freaking Encyclopedia Britannica of Chloe-Speech."

Abby merely spun back to face her computer.

Jared stared down at his camera screen with a sigh.

—

It was early morning by the time Chloe finally left the morgue and made her way back upstairs. Peter knew this because he'd fallen asleep on the cough waiting for her to get back, and by the time her entrance awakened him a quick glance to his phone proved it was 4:40 in the morning.

Groaning, Peter sat up in the cough and ran a hand down his face. "You were gone a long time."

"The third vic fits the pattern," Chloe responded softly, tiredly, as she collapsed onto the couch next to him. "This one was based after the Charity tarot card, and like what has happened with Mr Ramirez, the victim was the polar opposite of what was depicted. The woman was barren, unlike the one in the cards - who had a suckling child, was very poor instead of being as rich as her finery would've made it seem." She rested her head against Peter's shoulder. "I've also noticed something while re-examining the bodies side by side."

Peter waited for her to tell him what had been so interesting, but Chloe trailed off into silence. He continued to wait, not sure what she was doing, until the sound of soft snores filled the air. His frown grew as he noticed how warm her cheek was, and when he reached over and placed his hand against her forehead he found it hot to the touch.

 _You're pushing yourself too hard_. _You're making yourself sick_.

He eased himself up and pulled her into his arms. It proved how exhausted she wasn't that she didn't react a bit to that as he kicked the door closed behind him on his way out. She was light in his arms, her body fevered. There were dark bags under her eyes and a pinched expression on her face.

McGee saw them and concern immediately clouded his face. "She doesn't look good."

"Does nobody at NCIS go home to sleep?" Peter wanted to know, his voice thick with tiredness.

McGee gave him a sheepish smile. "I'm doing some over time, our current case is a tizzy. Gibbs, Tony and Ziva are flying back from Texas and I need to have everything ready for them when they get in later."

"Sounds like you're having as much fun as we are," Peter admitted as they walked towards the elevators and nodded his thanks to the other guy when he pressed the button to call it towards them, only for the elevator door to open immediately. "See you later, McGee."

"You too, Peter."

Peter rode the elevator down, rearranging Chloe's weight in his arms. While usually he'd drop her off at Gibbs', he was tired and just really wanted to get home. Plus, given her condition, they'd have to renew the Bond sometime tonight, so it just made more sense to have her home with him. Gibbs wouldn't like it, Gibbs _never_ liked it when his daughter slept away from his home, but Peter honestly grew less and less worried with Jethro's disapproval or approval when it came to him and Chloe. And anyway, he wasn't 'home' yet anyway, so there.

It was probably these thoughts which distracted him as he emerged from the elevator into the underground parking lot and made a beeline to his car. He'd been planning on the best course of action to lower her fever, when someone emerged from the shadows. He turned towards the figure only to get sideswiped by someone in the opposite direction. There were two of them and they were masked and armed - and with Chloe in his arms he was literally defenseless.

Before Peter could try and figure out a way to do this, Chloe was yanked out of his arms, her confused cry as she awoke in the struggle lighting up something within him. But before he could take even one step after the man who was dragging her towards a car, Peter was hit hard in the back of the head and everything went black.

The last things he heard before darkness claimed him was Chloe screaming his name, followed by the sound of slamming cars doors and spinning tires.

—

 ** _While the Adept is powerful and important in his or her own right, it cannot be stressed enough how vital the Anchor is. He or she is what keeps the Adept anchored in the present, in reality, in sanity, in time and life. Without the Anchor, the Adept is a Book of immense power written in a long forgotten dialect._**

 ** _Without the Anchor there is no Adept._**

 ** _One might call the Anchor the Adept's twin flame, as they are mutually necessary. The Anchor provides stability the Adept so desperately needs, while the Adept provides the Anchor with a purpose he or she will have felt has been missing from life up until that moment._**

 ** _The stronger the Adept, the stronger the Anchor must be._**

 ** _The Anchor cannot be frail of body, for they are the Adept's Shield and Sword._**

 ** _The Anchor cannot be frail of mind, for they must have the clarity the Adept strives for with every breath - one which becomes more and more elusive the more knowledge is gained._**

 ** _The Anchor cannot be frail of spirit, because spirit, while invisible, is the strongest magic of all. Should their spirit waiver, should it flicker, should it fail, then the unravelling will commence._**

 ** _Once the unravelling has truly begun, once the black remains a stain, the devastation cannot be undone, and the selection must start again._**

There was more, but Lincoln looked away. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. A glance at the clock read: 5:00. He was supposed to be in the office in two hours, reading the whole night through hadn't been a smart idea, but Chloe had been right. The file she'd emailed him had been huge and it'd been filled with all sorts of stuff. None of it was categorized, clearly right now she was still in the "collection" stage, where she merely dumped every piece of information in regards to the Adept and Bonder (or Anchor, as some texts referred to the title). The sorting stage would come later.

 _Not that any of that matters right now_.

He leaned back on his seat and gazed up at the ceiling blearily.

The more he read, the more blanks were filled in, and the more horrified and sickened he found himself. He tried searching for files on _how_ an Adept was made, and whether there'd been another Bonder before Peter. He'd asked Jared and Anne, and neither of them would answer him. Jared announced that he didn't know and didn't want to. He'd also mentioned that Chloe never spoke of "the one before Peter", and that there had to be a reason for that. Anne had merely grunted that Chloe had been very young when she'd been 'initiated' and advised him not to ask her about it.

And when Lincoln had finally found a text which spoke about the creation of the Adept, he finally understood why. It hadn't listed anything in detail, but it hadn't had to. Anyone with some intelligence could glean exactly how the Adept was "initiated". Chloe never spoke about "the one before Peter", she'd been "very young"… and Lincoln had found not only a website noting a young Chloe as "missing", but he'd also printed out an old article describing how she'd been found weeks later, having escaped "some unknown captor"… It'd also detailed that she'd been the victim of repeated and brutal sexual assault throughout her capture.

Her father was noted as Gabe Sullivan. This was why Lincoln hadn't found the articles and such himself. He'd had to call in a favor from one of his friends in the FBI cyber division and they'd come back with info on "Chloe _Sullivan_ ", and not _Gibbs_ as she was now going by. He was curious about Gabe Sullivan, who was noted as still alive, but it was really just an afterthought.

The queasiness in Lincoln's stomach grew as he shifted in his seat.

No wonder she wasn't 'all here' all the time! Not only did she have to deal with all the insanity that being the Adept brought - but she had to do so while being plagued by memories of the brutality of her creation.

 _Jesus H Christ._

He'd thought her strong before for not being locked up in an insane asylum somewhere. Now though?

His phone rang and he reached for it. A groan escaped his lips when he saw the caller ID. Only Jared would call him at this early in the morning. "What do you want?"

"Peter got attacked,"Jared informed him immediately. "He was ambushed in the parking lot but multiple assailants. They knocked him unconscious and he wasn't found until someone nearly ran him over on their way to work." He took in a deep breath. "Chloe was with him. She's been taken."

—

"You should really get that looked at," Abby nagged for the hundredth time.

"I'm _fine_ ," Peter muttered as he ignored the throbbing in his head. "How have you not been able to track that vehicle's plates yet?"

"They're _fake_ ," Abby responded immediately. "McGee's looking into something else that might help. He'll let us know if he finds anything."

"There's got to be something else we can do," Peter announced, his frustration growing harder and harder to contain. "They have her. We have to get her back!"

"We're doing all we can right now," Abby assured him. "McGee is following up the lead on the car, I'm going through the footage trying to clear it up and find some sort of clue - and Anne is working her own angle as well. We'll find something, you've just got to be patient."

"Patient?" He turned to her, voice a growl. "They could be doing anything to her right now and you want me to be _patient_?"

Abby's lips parted.

Peter turned and kicked the trashcan so hard it flew across the room and hit the wall violently.

Abby merely pointed at the door.

Growling, Peter stormed out and grabbed his phone, dialing a number rapidly as he did so. "Chico, it's me, Peter Bishop. I need to call in that favor from you. Now."

—

"I think she's sick," one voice muttered as a cold hand pressed against her forehead. "She's burning up."

"Only we would be lucky enough to kidnap her on her way to the hospital," another grumbled in frustration as the sound of pacing back and forth echoed throughout the room.

Concentrating on the voices, Chloe forced her eyes open to stare up at her captors. Her body was heavy, extremely hot, and growing sorer. Ever since that night on the balcony she'd been getting this way quicker and quicker, and if she pushed herself physically - like by overworking herself and not getting enough sleep - it came on even quicker, and worse.

The world around her was a foggy haze. She focused on the one standing over her, Agent Singer, until his face finally came into view.

Agent Wanek paced the floor before he noticed her awake and turned towards her. "You have some explaining to do."

" _I_ have some explaining to do?" Her voice was hoarse as she pushed herself to lay with her back against the bedhead. She was in a motel room bed. "You just kidnapped an officer of the U.S. government. How monumentally stupid are you two?"

"You don't understand," Agent Singer reasoned. "We're trying to help you. You're way over your head."

" _I'm_ way over my head?" She glared at Agent Singer. "You. Attacked. Me." Her eyes widened. She remembered Peter. He was there. But he wasn't here now. "Have you—?"

"Your boyfriend's fine," Agent Wanek interrupted immediately. "I just gave him a love tap. He was out cold, that's all."

"Look, Agent, uh—we never got your name." Agent Singer was obviously the more level-headed and pacifist of the two. "You won't believe this but we're here to help. We—."

"Call your father." Chloe glared at him.

Agent Singer's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

"Call your father, _Sam_ ," Chloe growled as she sat up straighter. "And stop pacing, Dean, you're making me nauseas."

Agent Wanek - Dean - skidded to a stop. His eyes were just as wide as his brother's. "You know our father?"

Her mere answer was to growl. She was slowly starting to see double. "Call him."

Agent Singer - Sam - sat up. "He hasn't been answering our calls for weeks now. We're worried that—."

"Call him from _my_ phone." She focused on his face. "It's under B.A.M.F."

Dean blinked at that. "What the hell is a Bamf?"

Sam didn't pay him any attention, merely picked up Chloe's phone and, after waiting for her to tell him the password, began to look through her contacts list.

—

"It's those Homeland Security Agents," Lincoln said the second he parked his car and hurried to intersect Peter on the way to his.

"What?" Peter looked up immediately at that, eyes narrowed. "The ones that were bothering Chloe yesterday?"

"Agents Wanek and Singer." Lincoln reached him in seconds. "Thing is, there _are_ no Agents Wanek and Singer working for Homeland Security." His expression was grim. "I had this feeling when I met them in the morgue, so I had one of my contacts at Quantico look into them - and nothing. I don't know who they work for, but it's not the government."

Peter's phone buzzed, and he looked down at it. "NCIS sure could use a Chico working for them." He headed towards his car once more.

"Where are you going?" Lincoln wanted to know as he headed after him.

"I have someone working the case," Peter informed him as he reached his door. "He's hacked into different surveillance around town and is working on a route in which the Impala took. I'm going to follow that car and get her back my way."

Lincoln hurried around the side of the car and slid into the front seat. At Peter's look he merely shrugged. "You need a navigator."

Peter slid into his eyes and raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm doing this by highly unsanctioned means. If it gets out that you not only knew but help…"

Lincoln held his hand out for the phone.

Peter's eyebrow raised. "Maybe there's some hope for you yet." And with that he slapped his phone into Lincoln's awaiting palm.

—

John Winchester was chewing his sons out so badly Chloe almost felt bad for them.

Almost.

Dean took the abuse with a lowered head, like a recruit might take the verbal abuse of a drill sergeant, while Sam on the other hand, dished things right back out at his father and generally made the situation that much worse for them.

She remained where she was on the bed, knees hugged to her chest, and she watched the boys get told off via speakerphone.

" _Did these two idiots hurt you?_ " That questions was clearly aimed at her.

"They knocked Peter unconscious, and used chloroform on me," she informed him.

" _Goddamn it_ , _and at NCIS's parking lot no less!_ " John sounded murderous. " _Do you two numbskulls_ ** _want_** _to end up in Federal Prison for the rest of your lives?"_

"I tried to get them away from the case," Chloe informed him with a groan. "I have very paranoid people around me, and ones who are very good at their job. This isn't like when you arrived, you weren't impersonating Homeland Security - and even if, you only made yourself known to us when shit was already hitting the fan with Azazel. _These_ two flashed their badges all over the place, tried to intimidate our personnel… it was only a matter of time before they were discovered and someone higher up called."

"Look, lady, we've done this a thousand times and _no one—_ ," Dean began.

" _You don't get it you idiot so shut up! That's the Adept! She has all sorts of added protection around her!_ " John was livid. " _This isn't even about NCIS! There's the BAU and CIA wrapped very tightly into this! Any one of them is keeping constant eye and will report anything remotely suspicious around her to the higher authorities_."

Chloe nodded. "Also, no one's told me this explicitly, but I've heard some insinuations that there's an agent undercover who's tasked with my protection. It's either the work of the President, or the Secretary of Defense - neither of them take no for answer. They'd insisted I get a bodyguard but I said no… and I think they took measures into their own hands and got someone to do so without me knowing."

"…which would be why you were trying to get rid of us so badly." Sam's eyes widened. "If there's someone tasked with protecting you, they'd run checks on every person around you, especially newcomers."

"And then you two would have a red flag on you." She nodded. "I was trying to protect you guys, I mean, come on! I basically warned Bobby about it over the phone! Fictus Eunuchum Law of 1623 doesn't even exist! It means Fake Officer in latin for crying out loud!"

"You know about Bobby?" Sam squeaked. "You knew _he_ was Agent Burlington?"

"John and I are friends, I know things," she replied cheekily.

"Sam, you're basically glossing over one monumental fact here." Dean stared at her with wide eyes. "Dad just said she's the Adept."

Sam shrugged. "So she's good at what she does. I don't see—."

"I thought you were supposed to be the smart one!" Dean groaned as he turned to his brother. "She's not _an_ _adept_ at her craft, she's _the_ Adept! As in the Compendium of all Supernatural knowledge!"

"Not _exactly_ true," Chloe interrupted quickly. "I mean, sure, my main drive is filled with all sorts of catalogs of Occult nature, but I also collect knowledge of the Fringe Science and even normal know-how variety. Doesn't mean I can access my different databases at whim. And sometimes I'm looking for means to incapacitate a Rugaru and instead pull up a files on the mating habits of the Wombat Eel. It's frustrating."

"Wombat _eel_?" Sam made a horrified face.

"It's as ugly as it sounds," Chloe assured him.

"Everyone is still somehow missing the point here!" Dean flung his hands in the air and took a step towards them before tripping and nearly falling to his knees.

It was at that second that the glass shattered behind him, and a bullet sped by exactly where his head would've been had he not tripped, and embedded itself in the wall.

"Everybody get _down_!" Dean yelled as he hit the floor.

Sam yanked Chloe off of the bed to the floor, and seconds later bullets assaulted the place. "Get to the bathroom! We'll escape through the back!"

" _Guys_?" John's voice could be heard. " _What's happening_?"

They'd had to leave the phone behind though, as they crawled towards the bathroom.

Chloe had nearly made it before a pang of pain raced throughout her body, leaving her breathless and shivering on the floor. Her fever spiked, leaving large drops of sweat to quickly drench her clothes and have them stick to her. Her finger burned. She was too scared to look down at the design and see what was happening to it.

 _Peter_ … She curled into a fetal position, unable to speak, much less move. _Peter I need you!_

There were hands on her, hands which dragged her into the bathroom, and the door closed shut.

"Who makes a bathroom without a window? Goddamn it!"

"What's happening to her?" Sam asked. "Was she hit?"

"Jesus, look at her her hand!"

The front door was kicked in.

"Dean, our guns are still out there."

"We're not going out without a fight, Sammy."

Chloe tried to ignore the agonizing pain climbing up her hand, tried to ground herself.

Suddenly the bathroom door was kicked in, and Chloe knew that if she didn't act fast, something horrible was going to happen. She was acting on a hunch, and if she was wrong she'd die, most probably painfully, but if not—! Chloe forced herself up, standing in front of Sam and Dean with her hands held out. "Good job."

Sam and Dean, who'd been about to fight, turned to look at her in surprise.

"Agent," Chloe cleared her throat. "You found us quicker than I thought you would."

"It's okay, ma'am," the redhead declared, a gun in each hand trained on both Sam and Dean. "I'm getting you out."

Relief filled her as she forced herself to smile through the pain. "I'd appreciate it if you put the gun down."

The redhead frowned. "But ma'am, these two—."

"Are working for me," she replied. "I had a feeling a had eyes on me, and figured this would be the best way to get you out in the open for a proper introduction."

"I've read the files on Fringe Division personnel, ma'am, these two aren't on it." The guns were still trained on their targets. "They're not even classified as allies, like the Jeffersonian and BAU."

"That's because I haven't actually introduced them, officially." She cleared her throat and bit back the sob of pain right at the tip of her tongue. "Meet Sam and Dean Winchester, part of my proposed Nomad Initiative."

Doubt began to cloud her expression. "Nomad Initiative. So… the crimes associated with them - grave robbing, impersonation of government authorities, robbery—."

"All conducted under my authority while investigating for the Fringe Division," Chloe responded, her voice hoarse. "I wanted to prove their effectiveness before bringing the Nomad Initiative to the President. I'm sure as is he'll have doubts, but I wanted to show how useful they will be in our continued efforts to protect our Country."

The redhead looked clearly disturbed, she was almost convinced, before her gaze lowered to Chloe's hand. "Explain, then, your hand. If they aren't doing that to you, _who is_?"

Finally finding herself forced to look at the source of her agony, Chloe nearly sobbed when she saw her hand. It was black, like skin which had suffered from frost bite, but the small fissures breaking the surface of her skin proved that there was something burning deep inside.

The pain in her stomach intensified, it was as if something had struck its claws deep inside of her and was playing with her insides. She stumbled forwards and seconds after the sound of something heavy hitting the floor, arms wrapped around her as her protection detail caught her.

"Ma'am?" The redhead stuttered, voice tinged with panic.

"She's burning up!" Sam opened the faucet. "Bring her here, quickly!"

The redhead hurriedly brought Chloe over and ducked her hand under the burning water. It fizzled upon contact as steam rose like water hitting lava might. "What's happening to her?"

"I don't know," Dean hissed as he hurried into the room and grabbed his phone. "But dad might." He brought the phone to his ear and began filling his father in what was happening.

"It's spreading!" The redhead yelled and yanked up Chloe's sleeve to reveal the black and burn was slowly creeping up her arm.

Sam cursed and turned to the shower. The second he'd turned the cold water on at full-blast, the redhead had pulled herself and Chloe under the spray.

The world around Chloe began to darkened.

" _WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE TO HER_?"

She forced her eyes open, it was hard to concentrate, everything was distorting all around her, but when it finally focused she found Peter and Lincoln in the doorway, guns trained.

Lincoln's eyes were wide and on her, looking horrified.

Peter, on the other hand, looked deadly. He turned to Dean and appeared very ready to pull the trigger.

"They're trying to help, Peter," Chloe forced out, only to cry when the pain and burning rose to her elbow.

Peter's grip on his gun trembled before he put it away. "You two, get out."

"I don't think—," Sam began.

" _LISTEN TO HIM AND GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE!_ " John ordered from the phone.

Sam and Dean shared looks before marching out.

Peter put down his gun and kicked off his shoes as he yanked his jacket off. His gaze was on Chloe as he headed towards the shower, raising his hand to prove that the markings around his finger were almost completely faded. "Help me get her clothes off."

The redhead nodded. "What's happening to her?"

"This Bonder related, isn't it?" Lincoln wanted to know, right there with them.

Chloe was shocked at how they managed to fit inside that small space.

Lincoln eased Chloe out of the redhead's arms, and shifted her so that she was rested with her back to his chest. "Who are you, anyway?"

"Special Agent Tess Mercer, I'm with Secret Service," the redhead explained as, now that she was free, she had the mobility to remove Chloe's shoes and begin to work on her pants. "I was assigned by the President to shadow Miss Gibbs and act as protection detail if and when needed."

Tess Mercer? Why did that name sound so familiar?

"So the bullets were your doing." Peter continued to undress as rapidly as he could.

"I thought they were trying to harm her," Tess explained. "I took the appropriate measures after ascertaining that I could shoot them without getting her in the crossfire. One of them was just lucky he tripped when he did."

"Not complaining, good job," Peter praised.

Chloe couldn't speak anymore, she could barely hold her arm up so that it didn't brush against Lincoln and burn him.

"What's happening to her?" Tess wanted to know. "Is this some sort of curse?"

Peter didn't answer. Merely dressed in boxers, he stepped into the shower, under the freezing jet stream. His arms curled around Chloe, stealing her away from Lincoln as he cupped the back of her head and brought their lips together.

It was around then that she blacked out.

—

 **TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Do not own**

 **To bogusbabe - for always making me laugh!**

—

Peter watched Chloe as she slept peacefully in his bed, curled up around a pillow. Her hand was back to normal, no traces left of the burning char that had begun to consume her from within. He hadn't been able to do more than kiss her while they'd been under the freezing shower, but it'd been enough to stop this thing, whatever it was, from spreading. Once his own marking were properly restored he'd figured her well enough to be moved, and they'd done just that, taking everything back to his place.

He'd been grateful that Lincoln was there, because the Teacher's Pet basically took over everything, allowing Peter to merely concentrate on Chloe. Lincoln had handled the shot-up motel room situation, had handled the Winchesters, as well as Special Agent Mercer. He'd also been the one to call the others so they'd know to call the search off.

That'd given Peter the opportunity to be there with Chloe the whole time, and the second she'd become conscious he'd taken off his clothes and slipped into bed with her. He'd tried to be gentle, but the fear that'd gone through him at her kidnapping, and then at finding her in such a horrible state, made it impossible. He'd kissed her roughly, trying to silence her groans, moans and whimpers with his mouth as he moved inside of her. He wasn't even sure how many times they'd both cum, but by the time they collapsed in bed, Chloe snoring softly within a span of mere minutes - her arm was completely healed.

She'd been sleeping for two hours now, and Peter hadn't left her side. He remained seated on the edge of the bed, watching her sleep.

There was a soft knock on the door before it opened to reveal Lincoln, who entered when Peter motioned him to do so. The newest agent of the Fringe Division joined Peter by the side of the bed.

"How is she?"

"Her arm's healed," Peter responded in the same low tone. "I don't know how long that will last though, that's never happened before. I don't even know what it is."

There was a moment's hesitation, before Lincoln sighed. "I think it's something called the Unravelling, or a result of it."

Peter looked up at him, eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about? What do you know?"

"I've been studying about the Adept, I asked Chloe and she gave me what she'd complied so far." Lincoln pushed his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. "I came across this text talking about the relationship between the Adept and the Anchor - or Bonder you call it. Basically it was explaining why the Anchor is such an important person, which is why the Anchor must not only physically and mentally strong, but emotionally or spiritually strong as well. It says that if the spirit waivers then the 'unravelling' will begin." Lincoln gulped as his gaze went to Chloe's now perfectly normal hand. "It mentions a black stain, and something about a selection. I don't know what any of it means, but Chloe's arm looked stained with that charred black."

Peter ran his hand down his face as realization rattled him to the core. "This is all my fault."

"There's no way this could be your—."

"My spirit's wavered," Peter hissed in self-disgust. "I've been trying to ready us both, you know? So, unconsciously, I've been pulling away. And she's noticed that, and it's affected her… I just didn't realize _how much_."

"Why can't it be you?" Lincoln asked softly. "I know this is known of my business, and that I'm the newest to the team, but even I can see that you love her. And she loves you."

Peter gulped down his answer to that, and took in a deep breath. "I don't love—I care about her. I—."

"What's wrong with admitting that you love her?" Lincoln wanted to know with a little anger in his tone. "Because you do!"

" _Enough_!" Peter growled as he stood and turned to Lincoln. "I can't be her permanent Bonder, okay? My father's been locked up in an insane asylum for _seventeen years_ now." He let out a deep, frustrated sigh as he sat back down and ran his fingers through his hair. "He's mentally ill, okay? That means, that even if it's only him, mental illness runs in my family, in my bloodline. Even if it hasn't manifested itself, it's still somewhere deep inside of _me_."

Lincoln's eyes widened in sudden understanding. "The Anchor cannot be frail of mind."

"Exactly." Peter closed his eyes and visibly calmed himself before opening them once more. "So, I care about her, but I can't love her. And I can't stay."

Lincoln stared at him in silence before he took in a deep breath. "So, what's the plan?"

"I just said the plan," Peter responded softly. "I can't stay."

Horror covered Lincoln's face. "But you just _saw_ her! She can't survive this without you here!"

"She won't survive this _if_ I am here." Peter hardened himself as he had while growing up under Walter Bishop, as he had one the news of the atrocities his father had helped William Bell commit. This was the only way Peter had survived in the past, and this was how Chloe would survive now. "If I leave now she'll be forced to take someone else, someone permanent. It's the only way she's going to survive."

"Just stay a little longer," Lincoln survived him by begging. "This is going to break her. _Please_."

Peter smiled at Lincoln before patting him on his back. "You're seriously a Teacher's Pet." And with that he turned and opened the door. He walked out of it, ignoring Lincoln calling for him.

He swung open the front door to find Special Agent Mercer standing there about to knock.

"I need to talk to Miss Sulli—Miss Gibbs," Mercer informed him.

"Go on in." Peter walked passed her out of the apartment and down the hall to the elevator. He was gone before Lincoln could reach him.

—

Anne was totally winging it.

She knew the barebones of what was going on, Chloe _had_ told her her plan in case something like this might go down, but Anne had never expected that _she_ would be the one communicating with the President of this version of the United States via Skype to inform him about the "Nomad Initiative". But with Chloe indisposed the way she was, Anne had no choice but to pick up the slack.

"There's more crimes being committed against the American People than we alone can handle," Anne announced as she sat in Chloe's office and stared up at the screen projected in front of her. "With the Nomad Initiative we will have people on the ground, tending to the smaller yet still important missions, allowing us to remain more time in the Capitol. Not only will this allow us to tend to different fires and put them out as quietly as possible, but the Nomads will give us eyes and ears all over the country."

"How sure are we that we can control them?" The President wanted to know. "We can't just give a bunch of hunters with guns power to do whatever they want. They could abuse it, and without close supervision this could quickly descend into anarchy."

"That's why we're starting out small, with a very limited group whom we can trust," Anne informed him. "John Winchester is a decorated ex-marine who was discharged with honor, and his sons, Dean and Sam, were trained by him from childhood to take up the mantel. They are our test subjects."

Their conversation last three more hours, and by the end of it the President, nor the Secretary of Defense, were very convinced. Anne had assured them that Chloe would convince them of the validity of the project once she wasn't indisposed, but she could feel the reserve in those men… and understood it as well.

A knock sounded on the door. "How'd it go?"

She looked up to see Jared leaning against the doorway. "Not that great, but I've managed to buy her time." She leaned forwards against the desk, very tired. "How is she doing?"

"Last I heard, fine." Jared made a face. "Can you believe they had a tail on her this whole time and we didn't even know? Jesus."

"Yeah, I heard something about that," Anne muttered as she ran her hands over her face. "Who's the new person?"

"Some redhead from the Secret Service," Jared replied. "Tess Mercer or something like that."

" _Lutessa_?" Anne looked up in shock.

Jared's eyes widened. "Wait, you know her?"

"I know the her from _my_ reality," Anne whispered as she stood. "Do you know who she is?"

"Other than the Secret Service Agent appointed to look after Chloe?" Jared squeaked. "No! Who is she?"

Anne took in a deep breath as she ran her hands over her head. "She's the daughter of Lionel Luthor."

Jared's eyes widened in horror as he reached into his pocket and yanked out his phone. " _Shit!_ "

—

"When I found out that the President was looking to place one of ours in charge of the security of an Above Classified Individual I had a feeling it might be you, so I assigned up for the vetting process." Special Agent Tess Mercer took in a deep breath as she stood by the bed. "I probably am the only person on the team who even knew about you."

"How did you know about her?" Lincoln Lee wanted to know curiously from where he leaned against the wall. "Despite Fringe cases that I only now realize intersected with FBI cases, I had no clue about her or the Fringe Division until I was recruited. So how did _you_?"

Tess eyed him in silence before she turned her gaze back to Chloe. "I was born Lutessa Lena Luthor."

Chloe's eyes widened in shock as she stared up at the girl who had Luthor-red hair. A part of her was horrified and sick. What did Tess want with her?

The blonde gripped the bed sheets and glanced around the room. Where was Peter? Why wasn't he here? She needed him here!

"I never had a relationship with my father, he was never there. I don't have his last name for a reason." Tess cleared her throat. "You're not the only one my father experimented on."

Chloe's gaze turned to her in shock.

"He didn't do to me what he did to you." The disgusted look on Tess' face proved she knew what he'd done to Chloe. "I was born from an affair he had and was given to a woman who ran and orphanage, or, well, whose orphanage was a front for an organization which specialized in brainwashing and the creation of child assassins."

Lincoln's eyes widened as he pushed away from the wall. "St. Louise's Orphanage."

Tess turned to look at him in surprise. "How do you even know that name? After I got into the Secret Service I found out that all records of it had been wiped!"

"I never met 'Granny Goodness' myself, but she definitely had an impact on my life." Lincoln took in a deep breath. "So you're from the last group, the ones that were rescued."

She nodded. "I was adopted out to this couple in the bayou, where I had a childhood that I don't want to remember. I got into Harvard at 15 just to get the hell out of there, and I worked my way up. When I was contacted by the Secret Service to start their training course I jumped into it." Tess took in a deep breath before she turned to Chloe. "I found out who my real father was through connections I gained on the job, and I discovered out what he did to you." She let out a heavy, forced breath as her green eyes met Chloe's, and the blonde could see her own pain reflected in them. If there was anyone who could understand Chloe's nightmares and inner demons, it was this redhead. "I'm just glad he was dead by the time I realized everything."

Lincoln stared between the two of them.

Tess let out another deep sigh and squared her shoulders. "If my relation to him is too much, I'll resign."

Chloe glanced around the room once more, not understanding why Peter hadn't been there when Lincoln woke her up to let her know Agent Mercer was there and needed to talk to her. Why had he left her? Where was he? Why wasn't he here?

Her green gaze caught Lincoln's and the look in his eyes startled her. _He knew about Lionel Luthor_. He must've been able to figure things out from what she'd given him, and he'd must've done research of his own, because none of this was surprising for him. Not concerning her and Lionel Luthor. He just looked disgusted and worried.

His gaze asked her if she wanted him to escort Tess Mercer out of the apartment.

She almost nodded a yes, and yet…

Chloe returned her attention to Tess. Half of her wanted to vomit, and yet the other… The other suddenly remembered where she'd heard her name before. Coyote had mentioned 'Tess Mercer' amongst the list of women that Chloe had been with in the alternate realities. Somehow this was just as shocking as the fact that Tess was Lionel's daughter, so while Chloe wanted to throw her out just for her relationship to Lionel, another part of her whispered that if any version of herself had loved a version of this woman, then she couldn't be all that bad.

While she herself didn't feel any sort of romantic attraction, curiosity was definitely there, and was probably what finally made the decision for her. "As I keep on being reminded by the higher ups, I need a protection detail, and, well, everything aside, you've proven yourself very capable so far in not only tracking me down, but quickly getting info on who my assailants could be." She hesitated before finally asking: "Does a three month probation time sound okay to you?"

Tess' eyes widened in surprise as she nodded. "That sounds good." She smiled and let out a surprised breath before she cleared her throat and rolled her shoulders. "I'm going to have to make some modifications on this place if you're going to be spending a lot of time here. The security's ridiculously lax."

"This is Peter's place," Chloe responded warily. "I don't know how he'd feel about—."

"This is me doing my job," Tess reminded. "I've been told your safety is a matter of National Security, and if there's only going to be one person on your security detail I need to hustle and install a lot of preventative measures."

"Of course," Chloe sighed. "I'm already regretting this."

Tess grinned. "No take backs." She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. "I've got a couple of locksmiths to call." And with that she left the room, already dialing a number.

Chloe stared at Tess' retreating back before she turned to Lincoln. "What have I done?"

Lincoln's lips twitched. "The President will be happy."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, as long as _he's_ happy." Her amusement wasn't long lasting, though, as she once more glanced around the room before turning her attention to Lincoln. "Where's Peter?"

"He, uh, had to step out for a while." Lincoln's smile disappeared immediately as he looked away, unable to meet her eyes. There was something he wasn't telling her about Peter.

Worry coiled in her stomach. "Is he okay? Was he hurt? I don't really remember—."

"He's fine," Lincoln assured her quickly, honestly.

"Oh." Why wasn't Peter here then?

 _He's got a life outside of yours, you know, Chloe. A life he's desperate to get back to_.

A spike of pain pierced her fingertips, and she hissed. Chloe grabbed her wrist and outstretched her fingers. It felt like someone was pricking under her fingernails with a very fine, very sharp needle.

"What is it?" Lincoln asked as he appeared by her side, almost immediately.

"I'm fine." She then whimpered when the pain amped up for a second and caught her off-guard.

"Sure you are," Lincoln whispered to himself, his tone completely unconvinced. "You need a permanent Anchor, Chloe, and you need it now."

She stared at her hand and nodded. "Yes, I know."

—

Dean leaned back on his seat at their new motel and tried to stifle his groan. Sam was flat out laying on his bed with his hands over his face, clearly trying to imagine himself anywhere but there. The phone on Dean's bed was on speaker, and John Winchester was chewing them out so badly for their monumental fuckup that Dean felt like he was six years old again. This really could've ended badly, and considering everything, Dean wasn't too sure that it hadn't. They had National heat on them now. And they were taking orders from people in government who had no clue about even the most basic hunting skills or knowledge. Great. Just great.

And there was the whole thing about them bringing unwanted attention to "the Adept", and his pa was seriously pissed off about that. John Winchester had known for for a while and no one, _no one_ , had known. Now, though, there were all sorts of rumbling amongst the hunter community because there'd been a hunter who'd been at the same motel and had seen some things go down.

"DO YOU EVEN UNDERSTAND THE PRECAUTIONS I HAVE HAD TO MAKE SURE THAT NONE OF THE ASSHOLES CHASING AFTER US FOR REVENGE KNEW ABOUT HER? AND YET YOU TWO JUST GO WALTZING IN, AND EVEN AFTER HER REPEATED ATTEMPTS TO PROTECT **YOU TWO** —!"

Dean groaned and slid to press his forehead against the table.

He had a feeling they would be hearing about this for years to come.

—

Peter Bishop stared up at the board showing departures and arrivals. He didn't have much on him. He'd gone back to the apartment after cooling down and from the murmurs going on in the bedroom he could tell Agent Mercer was still in there. It'd been the perfect distraction for him to grab his passport and money, as well as a few things like his computer and other necessities. In and out in under five minutes, he'd stared at his bedroom door, fighting the desire to go in there to explain himself - to say goodbye - but he knew that if he stared into those green eyes he wouldn't be able to go through with it, so he'd left.

And that was how he'd ended up here, a plane ticket in one hand, his phone in the other. His thumb kept hovering over Chloe's name in his contacts list. He couldn't leave without saying goodbye, but maybe it would be better to do so from the plane, right before it took off.

Suddenly the screen flashed with a call, Chloe's name was written all across his phone. He inhaled deeply and answered the call as he brought his phone to his ear. "Hi, uh—."

"When's your plane leaving?" She asked softly.

His eyes widened and he glanced around him, almost sure he'd see her somewhere. "In half an hour." He cleared his throat and got comfortable in his seat. "How did you—?"

"Call it a hunch," she responded with wry amusement. "Peter, I'm sorry for the circus your life's become lately."

He closed his eyes tightly. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"Yes, I do, I shanghaied you into this, and then I didn't apply myself to finding you a replacement, like I'd promised you I would. I got so used to depending on you that I guess a part of me… No. Not 'I guess'. I didn't want to think about you leaving so I put it off, and that was unfair to you." She cleared her throat.

"How's your hand?" He asked softly.

"It's great, I'm just tired after everything." She could be heard moving. "Your landlord's going to be angry at you for leaving."

"I've paid up till the end of the month, and I'll be long gone before he has any reason to care."

"What about your things?"

"I have what I need with me, give everything else to someone who needs it," he replied before finally opening his eyes as he leaned forwards in his seat. "About this case—."

"Don't worry about the case, I've basically already got it solved. Don't worry about anything, okay? I'll be fine."

"I'm sending you over the file on someone who I think can replace me as your Bonder," Peter informed her, his voice thick. "He's a good guy and I think he'll have what you need."

"Thanks," she whispered. "Take care of yourself, Peter. And—don't be a stranger."

He ran his hand over his face as he slowly breathed in and out, told himself this was the best thing for both of them. As long as he was there she wouldn't find a permanent Bonder, and that meant that if he stayed with her she'd die. He couldn't stay and watch that. He had to leave and give her the push she needed to find his replacement. "If you need anything, call me. I'll keep this number."

She didn't answer for a couple of seconds. "Bye Peter." And with that she hung up.

Peter closed his eyes tightly and brought his phone to his forehead. "Bye, Chloe."

"Glad to see we made it," a surprising voice announced.

Peter opened his eyes to see Anne, Jared and Abby headed towards them with two large suitcases dragged behind them. "What are you guys—? How did you even get passed security?"

"Please, we're higher level than these people." Anne rolled her eyes as she collapsed onto the seat next to him. "Chloe figured you'd left with only your passport, money, your computer and maybe some shirts. Looking at your bag I realize she was right." She motioned to the suitcases Jared and Abby dragged behind them. "She quickly packed stuff for you and sent them with us."

"We can probably fit your bag in one of these so you only have two carry-ons," Abby announced as she sat down on Peter's other side. "The others were already checked in… don't ask us how…" She held out the luggage's tags for him. "Here you go."

He stared at them in surprise. "How did she even know?"

"Chloe's scarily smart," Jared reminded him. "She figured you'd go to the airport, and figured out your schedule, and let us know so that you wouldn't have to wait by yourself."

Anne nodded as she leaned her head against his shoulder. "She didn't come because, well, I don't think she could."

Peter gulped around the lump in his throat. "Take care of her."

"Of course we will." Abby also leaned against him with her head against his shoulder. "Plus, she has Mercer around now, so she'll be extra protected."

"Did you know Mercer's the daughter of…" Jared stopped, his eyes on Anne, and then cleared his throat as he smiled at Peter. "…an old porno actress? Cool, huh?"

Peter wondered at Jared's hesitation but wasn't of the right mind to wonder about that. He silently listened to Abby, Anne and Jared's prattle until they called for his plane to begin boarding. Somehow, despite having made sure to never get too close to these people for this reason, it was still very hard to say goodbye.

As he joined the line, Peter glanced around as he gripped his ticket tightly. He knew Chloe wasn't there, that he wouldn't see her, but a part of him really wished he would—while another part knew it'd be horrible if he did.

Swallowing passed the emotion clogged in his throat, Peter gave his ticket to the attendant, and when he got it back he turned, waved once more to his friends, and said his final goodbye as he walked down the tarmac to board the plane that would take him far, far away from here.

This was the best thing for everyone.

It _was_.

—

"Well, _that_ was a whole crock of lies," Lincoln muttered from his place in the corner. "I don't know where to begin - the part where the investigation is already solved, or the part where you're doing dandy."

Chloe ignored him and his mountain of truths. She still had no idea what was behind the murders, or how the victims were being selected, or even the timeline between murders. She also, as Lincoln was pointing out, not exactly great. A quick glance to her hand didn't reveal anything odd, but should she twist her hand palm-up you could clearly see the black stains on the very tips of her fingers. It appeared as if she'd dipped her fingertips in purest black paint.

"So, I actually know the guy whose records Peter just sent you, or, well, I know him by reputation, at least," Lincoln declared as he glanced down at the file she'd opened and shown to him. "He's FBI, and really good at his job." He pulled out his phone and began typing something. "Seeley can be our wingman for this one since I think they've worked on a couple of cases together."

The blonde experimentally pressed her fingertips together, expecting pain yet found them numb to the touch. There was no feeling in it.

"Does it hurt?"

She finally looked up and shook her head. "I don't feel anything at all."

"Nothing at all? That doesn't sound good." He reached out and pressed his pointer finger against hers.

A jolt of pain wrecked through her finger and Chloe gasped as she pulled her hand away. She gripped her wrist and took in a deep breath. "Okay, so it comes and goes."

Lincoln eyed her warily before he returned to composing the text to Seeley. "I'm telling him it's urgent."

" _No, I said_ **_immediately_** ," they could hear Tess' voice as she paced back and forth in the living room. " _This apartment is like one giant bullseye, I'm surprised Mystic hasn't been kidnapped a hundred times over, or assassinated for that matter. So when I say get here immediately, I don't mean at your earliest convenience, I mean as fast as your vehicle can bring you. And if that's not fast enough because of traffic, get out and run._ "

Lincoln glanced up with an eyebrow raised. "She's terrifying."

"Is my codename Mystic?" Chloe blinked. "I have a codename."

"I wonder what mine is," Lincoln pondered.

" _No, Mystic's with Glasses_ ," Tess announced into the phone. " _I want this place protected from top to bottom by the time they get out of the bedroom_."

Chloe bit her bottom lip.

"Glasses? Really?" He pushed up his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and then his eyebrows raised when he got a text back from Seeley. "He's throwing a party and will invite this guy over so it'll be very subtle. Give you the ability to meet this guy and see how you two jive without any pressure."

"Jive?" Chloe tested out her fingertips once more to find that they'd gone numb again. No matter how hard she pressed against the wall, she couldn't feel it at all.

Tess' voice raised in the living room. " _Tell him to take some anti-diarrhea medicine, put a cork in it, clench his cheeks, and get here_!"

Lincoln raised an eyebrow. "So…. are you going to wait for her to terrify more workers into making this a safe house to tell her Peter left so there's no more reason to come here?"

"No." Chloe taped her fingertips against the wall. "I've talked to the landlord and… I'm moving in."

Lincoln's eyes widened. "Uh, Gibbs isn't going to like that."

"I know," she admitted softly. "I haven't mentioned anything to him yet, but, it's time. And anyway, until we can figure out a way to send Anne back to her reality she's going to be staying at his place, so that'll smoothen the transition."

Lincoln opened his mouth to say something, but obviously thought better about it and cleared his throat. "We should maybe make this party a house warming party for you then, we'll figure a way to get John Scott here without it being weird."

Chloe glanced up at him, grateful that he hadn't pushed or questioned in regards to her staying here in Peter's apartment.

" _I had two bullets in both my legs and still walked six miles,_ " Tess declared, clearly unimpressed. " _So you tell her to stop trying to get sympathy with that arm cast and get her job done. She doesn't_ ** _need_** _both hands."_

Lincoln looked utterly horrified and motioned with his thumb to the door as if saying: _What the hell?_

A small smile touched Chloe's lips before she lowered her gaze to her black fingertips. "So, John Scott, huh?"

"He's got a strong jaw," Lincoln informed her as he turned his phone around to show her the picture of the FBI agent. "Va va voom." He waggled his eyebrows before making up his face. "I'm never going to say va va voom ever again."

"Yes, please don't!" Chloe laughed as she shook her head.

Lincoln grinned and nodded. "Done."

Chloe shook her head, yet her laughter caught in her throat when her gaze fell upon Peter's old MIT jersey, the one she hadn't been able to pack away for him. The emotions she'd been trying to suppress nearly overwhelmed her, but she managed to turn her back on Lincoln before the tears prickled her eyes. _Be strong, Chloe. Butch up_. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

It took her a couple of minutes to get her emotions back under control, but by the time she turned around Lincoln was studiously examining the contents of his phone. He was not so subtly giving her the space and privacy needed to pull herself together.

Sighing, Chloe nodded. She could cry later, right now she had a case to solve and a last candidate to meet.

"And a party to plan," Lincoln muttered as he continued to study the phone.

"Right," she agreed. "Let's do this, Glasses."

Lincoln pouted. "We've got to change that codename."

Chloe smiled at him. There was still a lot "In Progress" in her life right now, and she was without the only anchor in her life, but she'd get through this. Peter's happiness was important to her; he needed to leave, needed to restart his life, and she'd do everything possible to help him. She'd find a Bonder, any acceptable Bonder, and she'd free Peter. And she'd make her life a little less of a mess, and prove to him that he didn't have to worry about her anymore.

He could live his own life without putting everything on hold because of her and her issues.

She was going to solve this case, and find a permanent Bonder, and get her life in order, for Peter.

Because she loved him.

Chloe gulped deeply.

This was the first time she'd allowed herself to admit it, even if only silently. It would also be the last time she admitted it as well, so she savored the thought.

"What do you think about this?" Lincoln asked as he motioned her over.

Shaking her head, Chloe reminded herself now was not time to think of Peter and cry. No. That would be tonight, when she was alone in bed. For now, she had a lot to do.

It was a good thing she had her head screwed on too, because events were about to befall her which would require every bit of her focus.

But that's another tale.

—

 **The End of "The Stain"**


End file.
